The Written Novel of Sweethearts
by Tales of Ju Inc
Summary: What happens when a young Angela decides to become Pen Pals with the boy she shared her first kiss with at camp? Read & Review please! Thanks. My first fanfiction, and this will be a long one.
1. Pen Pals

**DISCLAIMER: **This idea was inspired by Taxifan's 'Love Letter', and was posted on the Fan Fiction Challenges board by Tony&Angela8492. I gracefully accepted the challenge of writing this story, and came up with its title. I do not own 'Who's the Boss?'.

**The Written Novel of Sweethearts**

**Chapter One: Pen Pals**

"Dear Anthony,  
Hi! It's me, Ingrid, and I just cleaned my room and found your address in a folder of mine. Remember me from camp last month? I remember you. I wish we could see each other again, but that would be pretty hard, considering the distance between us. So, how about we become pen pals? That would be fun, don't you think? Well… I think it could be fun. We gave each other our addresses to write to one another anyway right?

Anyway, I just wanted to write to you, you know, keep in touch. Oh, and by the way, if we are going to be pen pals, I guess I can tell you my real name. It's Angela. Angela Robinson in fact; want to know why I told you it was Ingrid? Well, I didn't want you to kiss and tell. And I had just seen Casablanca three times. Hope you are doing okay!

Your (hopefully) Pen Pal,  
Angela Robinson"

'How could I possibly forget…?' Anthony Micelli thought to himself after reading the letter that came for him in the mail. 'Angela… what a pretty name…' He seemed blind to the fact _Ingrid_ had lied to him. Anthony chuckled; of course he would be her pen pal. What could it hurt right?

"Dad, where are the envelopes?" Anthony called up to his dad after finding a stamp and some paper.

"Try looking in my desk drawer. Top on the right." A man said peeking out from the kitchen. He was just slightly muscular, but not so much so you'd actually notice, and he was wearing a white apron that said 'Chef Lé Papa'. "Why do you need an envelope?" He asked his eleven year old son.

"Well, I have a pen pal from camp." Was all Anthony said.

"Okay Anthony, what a fun idea." Replied the man, returning to his job in the kitchen, making an authentic Italian meal for dinner.

As Anthony scurried into his father's bedroom, he was thinking about what he should write. 'Dear Angela… I would love to be your pen pal… no. To personal.' He opened the top right drawer on his father's desk. 'Yo Angela, what's shakin'? I'd be glad to be your pen pal! No. Way to Brooklyn Bridge Gang like…' He pulled out the envelope, and walked out of the bedroom, back to the small living room. He sat on the couch, placed a magazine beneath the piece of paper, and began to write.

"Hey Angela,  
How are you? It's Anthony. Anyway, I was just replying to your letter, and I think it'd be fun to be your pen pal! Oh, and, I am really only eleven…

------------------------  
… Well, I hope you are doing okay too, and I hope you aren't too mad at me.

Your Official Pen Pal Buddy from Brooklyn,  
Anthony M. Micelli"

Thirteen year old Angela read the letter carefully, slightly upset that her first kiss had been shared with an eleven year old- but other than that she was glad Anthony had replied. She smiled, and placed the letter back into the envelope, putting it in the drawer of her nightstand. She would reply to the letter later, after she thought of something good to write. Who knows, maybe they would become really close friends. Maybe even secret lovers who lost contact and met again in the future, but didn't know it was each other until a few years after they reunited. Nah, that didn't seem possible, and actually seemed to much like a television sitcom or soap opera.

"Angela… dinner time!" Called the familiar male voice of her father as a door slammed downstairs.

"Coming Daddy!" Angela replied happily, standing up from her bed, flattening the light pink comforter. She ran down the steps and into the kitchen, a smile plastered to her face. Her mother would be back from shopping shortly, and her dad had been back from work for a few minutes. Take out she supposed. So she didn't have a picture perfect family, but she was pleased with what she had.

"Guess who's back home?" A vivacious red headed woman walked into the kitchen, flipped her hair and sat down smiling.

"Hi Mother." Angela said, greeting her with a smile.

"Hello darling…" Robert, Angela's father said to the woman, giving her a peck on the cheek. "Looking lovely today, almost more beautiful than usual." He added.

"Well, I did get a promotion, I'm now customer of the year at Bloomingdale's." She gave a small laugh. Robert smiled, and rubbed her shoulder then walked back over to the stove.

"Does that mean more deals Mother? More late hours out shopping because you can save more money?" Angela muttered, gritting her teeth slightly.

"Of course not Angela. You know I love you and your father very much!" She said, right as Robert put her plate on the table.

"Mona, Mona, Mona… always the one to go after something she wants."

Mona smiled at this comment and shrugged her shoulders a bit. "Eh… always have, always will!"

At this Robert set Angela's plate before her at the table, then sat down with his.

"How was work?" Angela asked her father, trying to start a conversation.

"Nothing unusual sweetheart. All the 'guys' making comments to the ladies, gossip in the executive men's room that I steer clear of. The basics of the business office." He chuckled and took a bite of his steak.

"Oh, okay." Was all Angela said in reply. She stabbed at her steak, not really that interested in it.

"How was school dear?" Her mother asked her, looking up from her plate.

"Oh, nothing unusual Mother… just the same as everyday. Fine. Juuuust fine." Angela said with a sigh.

She finished her fries and her soda, and half of her double cheeseburger, and a cookie or two before she spoke again; listening to her mother and father chat. "Mother, Father, may I please be excused?" She asked.

"Why, certainly honey." Her father piped in, smiling.

"Don't get into to much trouble dear." Mona said, a smirk on her face.

"I won't Mother. Thanks Daddy." Angela stated, placing her dishes carefully into the sink.

She hastily walked up the steps, and into her room. She opened the drawer Anthony's letter was in, and smiled finding some paper, a pencil, and the other necessities for writing a letter.

"Dear Anthony,  
Hey! It's me Angela, thanks for replying to my previous letter. I'm glad we're pen pals now; sometimes it gets lonely over here. Not many kids live on my street… but then again, not many kids want to hang out with me…  
------------------  
...Well, anyway, my hand is starting to feel slightly numb. Bye!

Your Connecticut Pal,  
Angela R."

'Not many kids want to hang out with you? I'd gladly hang out with you!' The thought perplexed the eleven year old boy. He barely comprehended the rest of the letter, to concerned for Angela's social feelings to pay much attention. Looking at the letter and re-reading it he smiled. He just might have a new good friend in Angela. Maybe someday he could visit her, and bring her to see the city. Maybe, just maybe- but for now, he liked just being pen pals.

He stood up, and glanced at a framed picture on the mantel of his family before his mother died. He was about six years old in that picture, and was wearing a little-league uniform- up on his father's shoulders. His mother stood beside them both beaming. She had long beautiful dark hair, and deep brown eyes that you could get lost in, and the complexion of her skin seemed to glow with perfection, but Anthony figured it was just him getting lost in his wild imagination.

His mother died when he was only seven, September 3rd being four years ago today. He started to swipe away a tear that began to roll down his cheek, and he sniffled a bit, going into the kitchen to make a snack. His father hadn't yet gotten home from his route today. As he walked in to the kitchen, smelling all of the Italian aromas, he began to calm down a bit. He grabbed up some home-made Italian bread, garlic, oregano, parmesan, garlic, and some pepperonis. He sliced the bread in half, and the half in half, and topped what he had left with the toppings he chose, and then went to bake it in the oven. He thought this up himself, calling it 'Italy's Pizzariffico Bread'. I mean, come on, he was ten when he thought it up!

"Anthony? Anthony I'm home now!" Called Anthony's father, closing the apartment door behind him.

"Hey pops!" He greeted his father with a hug and a warm smile. "Was work okay today?" Anthony asked him, wondering what the route was like this time. His father almost always had a good story to tell.

"Well… the Felipe's daughter just got her license to drive today, found that out… and a few dogs chased my truck… and, Ay oh, Oh ay, you shoulda' seen the look on Mr. Felipe's face when his daughter started talking about a boy who's last name was Rossini. Man was it hilarious!" He said, with a shake of his head and a grin.

Anthony laughed at this. Sometimes his father would have great stories, full of people, other times the only people he would see outside to talk to were the Felipe's. Meaning not the longest story, but a story none-the-less.

"So, what are you up to Bud?" Anthony's father asked, patting the kid's left shoulder. "Well, after I eat my snack I plan on replying to my pen pal's most recent letter."

"Alright then, pen pals are great!" Was all his father said, and went into the living room to watch television.


	2. The Makeover

**The Written Novel of Sweethearts**

**Chapter Two: The Make-over**

Anthony sat on his bed in his simple bedroom, thinking of what to write. Maybe he would do better after reading a book. They had plenty of words and phrases he might be able to use, and it might spark his writing flame. He walked over to the old hand-me-down book shelf, and grimaced at it. It was old and slightly splintery and not the best looking color. But, he just had to make due with what he had. Spotting what he thought would be a good book to read, 'The Hardy Boys' book seven, he pulled it out gently and sat on his bed. When he opened the book and began to read, he almost got lost in the story.

An hour or so later, around 6:30 pm, Anthony closed the book and sighed happily. He loved a good ending, especially when he actually made it to the last page. He again picked up the paper on which he was writing the letter, and smiled.

"Hello Ange,

Hi, how are you doing? I got your letter, and I just can't believe that you don't have a lot of friends. You so far seem incredibly friendly and nice, and very fun to talk to. Even if you might not look the best, you'd still make a great friend. I could be your friend!

Wouldn't that be fun? We could… umm… recommend movies to each other and stuff. I mean, ay oh, oh ay, how hard could that be? Just a little description here, a joke here, and the works! Well, I have to go eat dinner now, but I will definitely write more to you later, maybe after I receive your reply to this letter.

Write you later,

Anthony"

Anthony put the letter in the beforehand addressed envelope, ran down the steps and outside to put the letter where the mailman would get it, and ran back inside. "Yum… it smells delicious Dad!" Anthony said, walking into the kitchen.

----------

Angela laughed as she read Anthony's letter, she loved how sweet he was, and how he tried to care and make her feel better. Well, she dyed her hair for camp, but hadn't taken time to dye it recently, so now she was back to her mousy brown hair. It was rather ugly, flat, and un-groomed. Sadly, Angela often thought down on her looks. She was very beautiful, if you looked in the right places, and even on the outside, if she took some time to fix up her hair.

Angela fingered her long brown hair. It was time she did something to it. She would have her mother cut it, dye it, feather the ends, and go on a shopping spree with her. She fiddled with her un-pierced ears. She sighed and decided to pierce her ears as well. What could it hurt right…? 'My ears!' Angela thought and grimaced. But, she would do this, even if it did hurt her ears for a little while.

"Mother!" Angela called, wondering where her mother could possibly be. "Mother, where are you? Come here!" She called out again.

"Coming dear!" Came the reply of her mother, floating in from the kitchen. She once again looked gorgeous.

"Mother, I want… no, Ineed you to cut my hair. Short please. Not to short, but short." She stood her ground, fingering her long hair again, as if enjoying it while it lasted. Then she thought of how it almost always got in the way, and finalized her decision then and there, dropping her hands to her side.

"What? But you have protested cutting your hair since you were seven… why the firm decision now?" Mona asked, slightly surprised.

"I, I just feel like getting rid of this tangled mess." She said, pushing away several loose strands of hair.

"Okay then dear…" Was all Mona said, returning to the kitchen. "Meet me in the downstairs bathroom." Angela could here her mother through the kitchen door.

"Okay Mother!" She replied, hurrying into the bathroom with a chair to sit on. Quietly Angela hummed the tune to 'Who Wrote the Book of Love?', being one of her favorite songs, of her favorite style. Well, she did have to say that she equally liked classical, do-wop, and jazzy swing music; however, most of her favorite songs were do-wop. Just then, the door opened and Angela stopped humming. Mona made her way behind Angela, with scissors, a comb, a brush, and she pulled a towel from the rack.

"Are you ready dear?" Mona asked her daughter, just in case she would change her mind.

"Yes, I think… wait, Iknow that I am ready." Angela replied, and she looked down, closed her eyes, and crossed her fingers between her legs so her mother couldn't see.

Snip. There goes the first chunk. Snip. There goes the second chunk. Clip. There goes another chunk of hair, but Angela held her eyes closed, afraid to see the hair fall to the floor. Even though she held her eyes closed shut tightly, she knew there was a lot of hair hitting the floor. She could feel the ends of her hair on the left side an inch or two beneath her ear lobe. 'It's just hair… you will look better like this… it's just hair…' Was running through Angela's mind the whole time, even as her mother sprayed her new hair with some slightly sticky spray and kept flicking at it with the comb. Then she felt a whoosh of air, and opened her eyes to see that her mother turned her to face the mirror.

"Oh my… gosh! Mother it's, it's so beautiful!" Angela said, looking at her hair in the reflection. It was a light blonde, but not really to light, and it was layered and feathered just right. It seemed to glow, much like Angela's face. "Ohhh thank you Mother! Thank you so much!" Angela said jumping up and hugging her mother.

"Well, your welcome… it wasn't too much trouble. Besides, now you look stunning." Mona said, smiling and hugging her daughter back firmly. Angela thought now might be a perfect time to ask her mother about the shopping spree. And while she was at it, she could get rid of her old clothes and things she didn't like.

"Hey Angela, suppose you came shopping with me? I was about to come find you and tell you I was going shopping anyway before I cut your hair. It can be a little before school spree and we can get rid of some of your old things." Mona said, right before Angela spoke. Angela smiled, rather amazed at her mother's newfound gift of reading her mind.

"Yeah! That would be great!"

Mona gave Angela a small pat on the shoulder and was off to the coat rack to get her coat. "Come on Angela, there's a sale going on at Bloomingdale's!"

-----------------------------

Anthony looked at the calendar. It had been a few days since he had sent his letter to Angela, and was wondering when his reply would come.

"Hmm… school starts back in a week or so…" He said frowning. He wasn't very fond of waking up for school, and he definitely didn't like the fact it would take up his precious writing time for letters to Angela. Oh well, he might get to hang out with the 'guys' some more. He decided it would be fine, and walked over to the television.

"No… no, no… ahh… there's a good one…" He said as he stopped when he heard the Hazel theme song. He had forgotten that the mail hadn't arrived yet, and was getting into the plot of the episode when he heard the familiar sound of the mail-man whistling. "The mail!" He said, jumping up, switching the television off, and running to the door. Then he stopped and caught his breath, not wanting to seem _too _anxious for the mail. 'C'mon… please be here…' He thought to himself a bit giddily.

Through the mail-slot of the door, a few letters fell to the floor, and hastily Anthony grabbed them up, searching through them. "Yes! It came, it came, it came!" He said, waving Angela's letter in the air. He placed the rest of the mail on the side-table beside the couch, and ran to his room to read the letter.

"Dear Anthony,

Earlier today Mother and I went shopping, after I got a haircut. It was a blast. I got a lot of new clothes, and most of my older clothing was donated to charity. Right now I am wearing my new pajamas. They are white silk with pink, purple, yellow, and orange polka-dots of different sizes. I love them.

Sorry it took so long for the reply, but with all the preparing for school and shopping got me busy.

I would write a lot more, but it's getting rather late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Mother is taking me to the city for 'Last Ice-Cream Cone of the Summer'. A tradition we've celebrated since Kindergarten.

Wishing you Well,

The New and Improved Angela."

Anthony smiled and laughed. A new school year was about to begin, and that would mean it would be a bit harder to keep in touch with Angela. But he'd manage. He let out a soft sigh, and folded the letter, and neatly placed it back into its envelope. He got up from the couch, and made his way to the small bedroom of his. He opened a drawer on the bedside table and carefully placed the letter inside it, on top of the last letter he'd receive from Angela.

"Anthony… Anthony, we need to go shopping for your school supplies." Said his father, and Anthony smiled weakly and replied.

"Okay dad!" He walked over to his closet, and pulled out a worn pair of gym-shoes. He slowly made his way from his room, and looked back before turning out the light and running out to meet his dad in the simple car.


	3. Operation Help The Homeless: Part I

**The Written Novel of Sweethearts**

**Chapter Three: Operation Help the Homeless – Part I **

A few hours went by, and Anthony arrived back home with his father, and some simple new school supplies. He also had one new pair of jeans, and two new simple shirts. He had to wait until the middle of the school year for new shoes. Anthony looked over his shoulder with a smile, and when he walked into his room, and sighed. He didn't have everything other kids had… but then again, at least he had something at all. He thought wonderingly about a lot of the homeless people in the city. Some of them he knew, some of them he was unfamiliar with. Some of them were very sweet… even if some others weren't so kind. That's probably because they weren't totally trusting though.

He knew they needed help, but he couldn't quite come up with an idea. But wait, maybe Angela could! '_She is very smart…_' Anthony thought to himself, rummaging for more paper, and his stubby pencil with the eraser almost gone.

"Dear Angela,

Hello! It's Anthony, and I am glad you are happy with your little 'make-over'. I am grinning from ear to ear right now so you know. I can't wait until I get to see you again. Who knows, maybe with school starting, you'll be taking a few trips to the city. Good thought no? Anyway, speaking of school, it might be hard for us to keep writing… but I have thought up a plan. We can each designate a day for writing. Like say… you on Wednesday, me on Sunday. So we will keep in contact, because we will always write to each other on those days or something.

Also, I became slightly perpl… purpleck… perplexed about something today. And I knew that with you being so smart, you could help! There are lots of homeless people in the city, and well, I think we should do something to help, but I don't know exactly how. Do you have any ideas? If you do, then please write them to me. I (and the city; and the homeless) would greatly appreciate it.

Well, I am running out of things to say in this letter, so I guess I will finish it.

Your friend,

Anthony"

Angela smiled as she read the most current letter from Anthony. It was sweet, but very deep too. She could tell that Anthony really cared about his city, and the people living there. He was a very helpful boy, and she knew he would be thrilled if she gave him some ideas. So quickly, but thoroughly, she devised a plan. It was called… 'Operation: Help the Homeless'. You could donate canned goods, some clothing, or you could even 'Adopt a Family' and help them pay rent to an apartment after helping the adults get jobs, thus getting on their feet, and able to defend themselves.

Yes, this was a good idea. Angela knew it… she just didn't know what the people in the city would think of it. '_Oh well…_' She thought to herself, looking for some paper and a pencil.

"Dear Anthony,

I have thought up an idea for helping the homeless people, but I think I should tell you over the phone, so I don't leave anything out.

Also, I can't wait until I see you again, however long that may take. In fact, I also loved your designated writing days idea. It's brilliant! I truly think that you are an intelligent person Anthony. You just work in ways different from everyone else… and I like that. I like that a lot.

Also, I have decided to send you a picture of me right now. So you can see the effects of the make-over. You already know what I looked like before, so a before picture is rather stupid. Do you still look about the same? I would imagine so, because it hasn't been horribly long since summer camp, and I doubt you got a make-over.

Your confidante,

Angela R."

Anthony was watching good old television when the mail slipped through the door. "Oh, the mail's here, good!" He stood up and walked over to the door, and picked up the letters. Sorting through them, he found the letter from Angela- he sat the rest of the mail on the side-table and sat down on the couch. "It's Angela's ideas… or, idea." He said laughing.

He reminded himself she might only have one idea. He opened the letter, and out fell a picture of Angela. It was very pretty. He read the letter's content, laughing especially at the part about him not getting a make-over.

"But, I don't have Angela's phone number…" He said out loud, rather confused. "Oh wait! I know, the Operator." He put the letter and picture back into the envelope, and walked over to the phone. Taking it off the hook, he dialed Operator, and asked for Angela Robinson living in Fairfield, Connecticut.

"Thank you!" Anthony said to the Operator, after of course writing the phone number down. '_Hmm… I wonder if she sounds the same…_' He hung up the phone, and was about to pick it up again, when the doorbell rang. '_Who on earth could that be…?_' He asked himself as he shoved Angela's number into pocket. Taking the small journey to his front door, he began to hum 'Who Wrote the Book of Love?' a favorite of his. Oh, how he just loved that song!

Opening the door, he saw the milkman. '_Oh, it's just _him_, the _milkman' Anthony thought rather begrudgingly. He did not see it fit at all that he get interrupted while trying to call Angela. "Hiya!" He said cheerfully to the milkman anyway. "Um, hello." The milkman said, looking at Anthony oddly.

"I brought you your milk…" He added, glancing around himself. Obviously he was new to the neighborhood- afraid of muggers- and the job. "Yeah, I'll take it…" Anthony said, taking the milk and closing the door. He sat the milk down on the floor, and headed back to the phone. '_Now, to get back to Angela._' He thought, digging his hands into his pocket for the phone number. Finding it at last, he picked up the receiver and dialed the number.

"Hello?" Came a woman's voice over the phone, after a few rings and a click.

"Hi, my name is Anthony, and I am calling for Angela."

"Oh, I see. Let me get her for you, _Anthony_."

He heard the phone be sat down gently, and a woman calling for Angela, then going up a set of stairs.

"Angela, the phone's for you!" Mona called up the stairs. "It's a young man named _Anthony_." She added dramatically as she ran into Angela. "Thank you Mother! I'll take the call now… you don't need to worry." Angela said, running down the stairs.

Mona sighed, grinning. "Teenage girls, and their little boyfriends…"

(Ahh, sorry for the shortness of this chapter, and the wait.)


End file.
